Red Letter Believers

What's better for kids? Taekwando, or church?

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:26:00 +0000

My next-door neighbor, Bob, is a good guy. He's a kid's doctor. He drives a motorcycle and has tatoos, but has a gentle nature that children ... and their parents ... adore.

In summers past we have leaned on rakes and talked politics and weather. We have shoveled the shared sidewalks in the freezing cold and dug out fence posts that blew over with strong spring rains.

He has two great kids who are polite and fun-loving. They look adults in the eye when they speak and always say thank you and please.

But there is a chasm in our beliefs much wider than the 15 feet between our houses. We've talked about eternity, and meaning and purpose. We've talked about sin, and the need to fix our human condition. He'll have none of it.

My Sunday family tradition is a quiet morning and a couple of hours of worship, praise and teaching. It's been that way since I was a child. But for the neighbors, every Sunday morning the kids run out to the SUV with the Darwin fish on the bumper, dressed in white pants and a long shirt tied off with belt. They come home and eat a breakfast with bacon -- I can smell it wafting on the wind.

Bragging about his kids one day, Bob told me how well they are doing in Taekwondo . "It teaches them discipline."

It might teach you how to say please and thank you and how to respond to bullies. But it doesn't give one iota of insight into eternity.

What do you think? What kinds of things do you see your neighbors doing on Sunday? Comment here.

The Knots of Faith

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 12:30:00 +0000

He pulled the rope taut, and with a flick of the wrist and lightning quick motions with his thumb and forefinger and he had a knot.

I was nine and amazed.

Image by mr.smashy I wanted to tie knots. I began to dream of all the things I could connect rope to. I could tie one on the branch of a tree and swing on a tire like I’d seen on The Waltons. I could pull my wagon with my bike with the right knot. I could save someone drowning in the lake if I could tie a loop and throw it to her. But mostly, I just wanted a good knot that my brother couldn’t escape from when I tied him up.

Mr. Ledbetter was my Webelo leader and he worked at the grocery store. But in his spare time, he could do anything. Like tie knots. And he could read a map and tie a tourniquet and peform CPR on Rescucitation Annie.

By the end of the year, I could do all that – and more.

During those same years, Mrs. Triano would open her bible and teach us a Sunday School lesson at the church on Wildwood Drive, the one built out of knotty pine. Danny, and Daryl and I and a couple of other kids would squirm and find ways to pass the time. And there was Sammy, the preacher’s kid. He never listened.

But somehow, it sunk in. To this day, I know the stories, the lessons, and the Lord behind them.

Before long I had James on my knee, my own flesh. I would teach him how to tie his shoe and how to snug his hook with knots. I would teach him how to put the bandage so the dirt wouldn’t get in. And I taught him the same lessons from the other side of eternity. And then Josh came along and he too, learned.

Some day, they'll have their own and the legacy will live on. I pray that my grandchildren one day will learn how the knots of faith can be woven, tightened and used for everyday life.

The Lessons I learned. The Lessons I'm learning. What will I learn today?.

Care to comment?

An optimist's view of a pessimistic world

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 12:31:00 +0000

There's plenty to occupy the mind of the pessimist. A Bleak economy. Bad news around the world. A protracted war. Heavy traffic. Moral decline.Indigestion. Post nasal drip. You name it – and it’s happening in very real ways.

Image by Ankher via Flickr

If you are pessimist by nature, you've got to be feeling a little smug right now. It doesn't help that the current presidential selection process is based on who has the worst news to reveal.

I can hear the nay-sayer now. "I told you so!"

Getting some people to see any glimmer is nearly impossible. They have the uncanny ability to stare down the brightest light until they force it to go dark.

I worked with a coworker who just brought everyone down with him. He was certain the world was against him, or at least plotting against him. There was never a good day without a pain, a bad relationship or a fight to pick. Darkness followed him.

I have a relative who would rather see the sin than the grace, the wrongs more than the rights, the punishment over the salvation. The joy of heaven is drowned out by the shouts of finding yet another fault in someone.

I have people who pick apart every word I write on this page, finding error with me, or the church, or the world. Bleakness seems to be their only friend.

But I'm being honest here. I often take some comfort in my own grumblings and revel in my mumblings. I have some fellow soldiers in this battle to the bottom, and we all drag our feet and become slaves to the steady, droll drumbeat of an apathetic world. After all, it takes zero work to look at the dark side of situations.

Some Scripture needs to be understood, or translated or studied. Some just stands on it's own, like Phillipians 2:14. "Do everything without complaining or arguing."

Unsettling? Try downright frightening for some of us. To live and speak everything without complaint or arguement punctures a hole in the Bad Ship Lollipop. It sinks the comfortable, negative world. It suddenly changes the world view away from me and my cranky attitude.

"Be positive? How?"

It starts with a different vision – a way to see things that are unseen. To see this world through the Father's eyes. It means finding good in the bad, hope out of the hopeless, and blessings out of brokenness.

Got a comment, In all the ugliness around us, how do you find beauty? Please comment here.

The toys I cherished

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 11:28:00 +0000

The best-selling toys from this last Christmas season were hi-tech inventions, full of innovation and wizardry. Many of them need batteries or a manual. If I was a kid, I might be fascinated with them for a while, but then go back to something simple.

If you look at the best-selling toys of all time include the Hula Hoop, the View Master, the Slinky, the Pet Rock, Zhu Zhu pets, Mr. Potato Head, Cabbage Patch Dolls, Gameboys, Barbie, and Nerf balls – most succeeded because of their creative, ingenious simplicity.

I have owned many of them, or at least my kids did. After they were safely tucked in bed, I might even play with them, for research sake of course. But my best toys as a kid were the simple ones -- A stick. A ball. A box. And it’s been that way for generations.

Courtesy The Kiln Photo Workshops

Don’t get me wrong. My parents bought me toys, although they rarely bought anything for themselves. But when I was out with my brother and Joey and Tom from down the street, it was a stick that we used. With sticks we poked at the frogs in the drainage ditch. With sticks we would fight each other, pretending to defend the castle. Everyone needed a stick.

And every kid needs a ball. We had a basketball that we wore thin down to the core. We would play horse and pig, shooting baskets until the light was completely gone. And we had a kickball that we found tucked in the weeds down on Laura Drive. It was abandoned and just begged for some kids to love it. We showered it with affection as we kicked it back and forth. We had baseballs too, and nerf balls, and a big red ball. A big tub in the garage was supposed to be for the balls, but they were always in the lawn or in the garage for my mom to stumble over.

Life was sweeter whenever we found a good box. A shoebox was a place for a frog. A milk carton ws a place to haul dirt. Refrigerator boxes were the best, buecaseu we cut cut them and create forts or temporary homes, that we could store our balls in and defend with our sticks.

What more does a kid need than a stick, a ball and a box?

The older I get, the more I’m reminded of the simple days and the simple ways. What do I really need in life?

A friend.

A book.

And a Savior.

I’m happy.

The One Thing We Can't Talk About

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 12:32:00 +0000

His name was Ed and he liked to talk.

The administrator down the hall was one of those guys. He had a story for every situation. He'd been everywhere. He'd done everything. Ed had driven trucks for 12 years. He ran a pool hall for six years. He served as a hunting outfitter for four years and had been in

his current job for 21 years. When I did the math, he was well north of 80 years old -- but I never challenged him on it. No need to ruin a good story.

One day I was having coffee with him and I mentioned that my Life Group at church was talking through some interesting discoveries, that the cosmos and the world around us suddenly weren't so small. He put up a hand to my face. "Not gonna go there," he said sternly. "Can't be talking about that stuff."

Here's a man that talk about just about anything and anyone, but he simply was afraid to walk down the path that a simple conversation about God might take him.

This scene is often replicated in today's society in one way or another. We can talk about our kids, our grand kids, our parents and our weird Uncle Al, but we can't talk about the Father. We can talk about history, places we've been been and plans for the weekend, but we can't talk about eternity. We can talk about what we think about politics, the workplace and the community, but we can't talk about the King.

Today’s Christians are in a quandary. We know the divine imperative to live out our faith and we understand that living out our faith involves talking about our faith. Hiding who we are goes against our calling. So, just what are we supposed to do?

Many of us try to walk the middle ground by dropping non caustic code words like “higher power” and “faith.” We display cozy spiritual things on our desks like rainbows and angels. But they fall short because they don’t do a thing to help improve the human condition of those around us. Eventually, we have to talk about it.

Even though Ed didn't to talk about it then, eventually he did.
You can't keep a good story to yourself.

"Respect." What Tim Tebow did for his teammates and what I can do for mine

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

How do you gain respect in your workplace? Leave a comment here.

Sports fan or not, if you want to be respected, this post is for you. The big news in the sporting world is that Quarterback Tim Tebow led an unlikely charge of the Denver Broncos into the second round of the playoffs. They lost to the Patriots, but there's more to the story.

Image by Jeffrey Beall via Flickr

Tebow was a Heisman Trophy winner and led the University of Florida to two national championships. The Broncos drafted him in the first round two years ago, but for the most part he has been standing on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, eyes watching with intent every play.

I can't comment with any authority on his football ability, and that seems to be arguable. But the man just knows how to win, inspiring those around him. And to be honest, I have watched only a handful of games in my life -- until now. Not missing a snap, I'm wearing Orange pajamas and brushing my teeth with Timmy Teeth-Bow Toothpaste.

But I have been observing how he handles himself. All that pressure. All that talent. All that attention. He's got a genuine approach to life that is teaching me a thing or two about my own.

In October he was a second-string quarterback. Last week, he was named by ESPN as the most popular athlete. He may very well be the hero-type person America needs right, someone who can rally a nation and make us feel good again about the right and pure. USA Today even wrote a piece called, It’s Tebow time: Denver quarterback inspires nation.

That's a lot to put on a kid, but in his book, he understands the platform God has put him on, and he plans on using it not to glorify himself, but his Lord.

Tebow has been a superstar probably since he played Pop Warner football. He's been lauded with awards, attention, media and lavish praise for a long, long time. Yet, he continually responds with humility, grace and honor. And he's an outspoken believer in Christ, speaking about his faith intelligently and naturally.

He was known for painting Bible verses in the grease under his eyes, so a million people would watch him take a snap for the Gators and at the same time be reminded of John 3:16, or Phil 4:8. After he graduated, they changed the rules so no one could do that again. It's not a ploy, but a reflection of his heart and that makes all the difference.

In the locker room and on the field, he's a leadership magnet. Tough players, hardened by the world and not necessarily comfortable with his Christianity are drawn to his athletic ability, but more so by his character. He is a leader, a friend and a motivator. His love and passion for the game is backed a boundless enthusiasm. His teammates adore him. What's not to love about this kid?

My friends Pat and Tammy McLeod, who are chaplains at Harvard University, have a son Zach who suffered a brain injury while playing football. Tebow is bringing them to the sideline in Boston to spend a few minutes with him, to hug and pray.

I read an interview earlier this year, where the reporter was trying to goad the then second-string Tebow. "Why aren't you starting? Isn't sitting on the bench humbling for you? Don't you think you should be leading this team, the same way you led the Florida Gators?"

Tebow said this, in so many words. My job right now is to learn. I'm just a young player. The only thing I'm trying to do right now is earn the respect of my teammates. I need to be an example to them in my professional and personal life.

When I look at my own world of influence, I try to strut my stuff, my ability and my experience. Rarely do I think about just earning respect the right way. He talks about his faith. But even more, he lives it in a way that is attractive and real.

How do you gain respect in your workplace? Leave a comment here. And one more thing. I encourage Tim to endorse my friend Dan King's book, the Unlikely Missionary. The rest of us should just read it

How to get unstuck in the New Year

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 12:39:00 +0000

I remember the impact of that one e-mail I sent. I added a snarky comment about the boss -- it was funny, but terribly wrong. As soon as I hit "send", I wish I could have taken it back.

There was the time I picked my teenage son up and "strongly encouraged" him out the door to do a chore. He had been shuffling, dawdling, delaying the inevitable and I gave him a push and he tripped on the way down the steps. In a heap, he looked up in disgust at me. I so wanted to take back those last angry actions and start over.

We all have hinge moments, those vital seconds that we wish we could change. Maybe it was a comment, or an inappropriate look, or a word coming from the darkest heart.

We all have regrets -- those things that we do differently if given the chance. I have a lifetime of them.

It would have been easier to live a life of no regret. I know some people who say they do. But they are the ones who really don't give a darn about anyone else, saying and doing what they want. That's no way to be.

Grace seems to be the operative word. Because without it, I can't go backwards. There's just no way to fix all the wrongs.

And I can't go forward, because I'm living with what shoulda-woulda-coulda been.

Without grace, I'm just stuck. And that's a habit I just need to break.

Care to comment?

Linking up with Jennifer today. God Bumps and Surprises. Mine? I got unstuck!
Creating new habits, with A Holy Experience too.

Cluttered places, cluttered minds

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 12:42:00 +0000

I finally did it. That one box in the garage that has been tightly sealed for years is now gone. I was keeping it because I thought the contents had value, either real or just sentimental.

After I went through it with a realistic and open mind, I shipped most of it off to goodwill.

I have no regrets.

I suspect you are a little like me. Getting rid of things isn't always easy. I'm not like those unbelievable people on television who have to call a reality show to help get to the bottom of the pile. I watched that once and it was too painful to watch again. Stacks of stuff, often for the sake of the collection itself, everywhere. People who cannot sleep on their bed because it is stacked with unsorted clothes. It makes my few boxes seem tame.

But there still is something to be said for holding on to our possessions, long after their shelf life has expired. Over my life, I've kept treasures in the garage and the basement. The closet, too

Some of it is obviously junk. Other things remind me of days gone by. I recently went through a box of balls in the shed. Baseballs, kickballs, soccer balls and basketballs. There's no one home anymore to play. The boys are a thousand miles a way and nary a grandchild on the way. Holding on to these balls reminded me of the thousands of hours we spent, tramping down the grass, laughs and shrieks piercing the air. Silence hangs now. Time to let another little boy play catch with his dad.

Some of these treasures remind me of past victories. I kept that third place trophy from the Pinewood derby for decades. I was nine at the time. But my dad and I worked on that car until the wee hours of the morning of the race. We won it together and getting rid of the trophy seemed like invalidating the event. The cheap plastic momento is now gone, but the victory is not forgetten.

Like a cluttered house, a mind cluttered with the past leaves no room for anything new. If my mind is filled with memories of failed relationships, deserted friends and family members who have disappeared, then I don't leave room for the new.

There are those times when the boxes should be put in the bin at the back of the second hand store and never thought of again.

Resources from The High Calling

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 12:26:00 +0000

The High Calling is a wonderful resource for those who seek to integrate their faith into the every day. Each week, there are articles on culture, family, leadership and work. I’m honored to be on staff, editing the weekly newsletter and submitting occasional articles. This week, Sandra Sims is featuring a series of “best of 2011” articles, culling from hundreds of articles last year. So far, she have featured the Best of Books, the Best of Leadership, the Best of Family and yesterday, it was the Best of Work.

What is your favorite article in the bunch?

The rear-view mirror

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 17:32:00 +0000

I have a lifetime of snapshots. Some are on paper, printed on shiny stock and filed away in envelopes. Some are just left on my computer. But most are in my mind, memories of where I've been, what I've done.

With time, some of them fade.

Others, I cannot shake.

Some I wish I could remember just a little clearer. We went to Disneyland when I was a boy, but the only thing i can recall is standing at the entrance.

It’s history.

And I love to reminisce. I get adventurous thinking about my days living in Turkey, and the decade of wonder in Jackson Hole. Those trips in the mountains and to the beach and the big city always invoked such wonderful memories.

Along with yesterday are memories of betrayal and abandonment, of friendships lost, of family members who are gone, and of angry words that just continue to live on.

The rear-view mirror is great for nostalgia, but terrible for healing. All of it is yesterday, and I can't change a thing about it.

But right now, I'm looking forward to better days ahead. I want to forge ahead with rebuilding relationships and finding new friendships. I want to be a better family man. I want to find my way again, to be a man after God's heart.

It was Lincoln who said, “The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time.”

I have found that five-year plans don't work. One-year projections are shaky at best. Often, I don't have a real good grip with even next week. So, I've got today. And maybe tomorrow. Trusting God, I walk this road.

Happy New Year.

Care to comment?

A little respect for the garbage man

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 13:10:00 +0000

This is a bad week to be a trash man.

Wikipedia

I survey the bags of crumbled Christmas wrapping, the empty computer and television cartons, and the black bags containing the remains of the big dinner piled along the streets. Each morning, the collectors clock in, get their assignments, and then grab the keys to their vehicles. They start them up and rumble out of the yard, one by one, fanning out across the city.

At some point, these trucks will fill up. There’s only so much that can collect before they will have to go to the landfill to deposit their collections.

My friend John once commented on a mutual acquaintance, calling him a "human garbage truck." This person was so full of junk – frustration, anger, and disappointment -- that eventually, he had to find a place to dump it. And sometimes, it was right on me. Even though I was his friend, it didn't matter.

Isn't it true, that the people who mean the most to me get my garbage.

How many times did I come home, frustrated at the boss, only to take it out on my wife and children? My family and friends have been witness to my temper, my selfishness, and my prideful tantrums. "God, give me patience -- and love -- when others do the same to me."

There are people all around you who have full trucks today. Somebody may just choose to dump on you.

I love the axiom. "Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don’t.” There's even a Bible verse somewhere about that, but I don't read it often. "Love those that hate you, and persecute you," and "Return good for evil."

Boy, this is tough.

Care to comment?

Recalculating

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 13:35:00 +0000

What's not to love about the GPS?

With millions of miles of roads, attractions, gas stations and destinations, there's no reason to buy a map ever again. Piggybacking off military satellites, American companies have found ways to tap into the invisible beam to help a whole world of humans find their way.

And still, we are lost.

Oh sure, we know how many miles it is from Greenville to Columbus, but we don't know how to find our way to reconciliation. We know how to get to Candyland with the kids, but we don't know how to reach their hearts. We know how to find a Chinese restaurant in Loveland, but we are still searching for someone who can touch our heat.

I knew a friend who claimed he could find every answer in The Book. His daughter was told she needed braces. He needed confirmation, so he spent the weekend scouring the pages, looking for a clue. Usually he would find one, a lost verse in Lamentations or Proverbs, and he would proudly pronounce his answer. That never seemed right to me. I want to find the answers without twisting the words to make them fit. The answers are there, in black and red, but so is God, right in my heart.

The GPS is given the coordinates and off we go to our destination. But I am a wanderer, a drifter. I pull off at quirky side attractions, wondering what all the fuss is about. If there's a world's largest frying pan or a UFO watchtower or corn palace, I'm there. If the sign says, "scenic overlook," I can't pass it up.

The Australian voice programmed in the GPS, Geoff, patiently finds me where I'm at and gently encourages me to get back on the road. "Recalculating," he says, while giving the new coordinates.

And God finds me right where I'm at. Wandering, confused, and on a path that leads to nowhere, I sometimes don't even know I'm lost. He recalculates, and loves me back home.

Feel free to comment here.

The bells on Christmas Day -- The song and the story

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 17:16:00 +0000

One of my favorite Christmas songs is I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, taken from a poem penned by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The poem was written in the middle of America's Civil War -- and the despair engulfed the nation.

It was a time of personal despair for Longfellow. His wife had died tragically. After trimming hair from her seven-year old's head, she decided to preserve the clippings in sealing wax. Melting a bar of sealing wax with a candle, a few drops fell unnoticed upon her dress. A breeze gusted through the window and the flame engulfed her dress. In a few moments she was gone.

Longfellow wrote on the first Christmas after her death, "How inexpressibly sad are all holidays. I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace."

Almost a year later, Longfellow received word that his oldest son Charles, a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac, had been severely wounded with a bullet passing through his spine and killing him.

Three years later, he began to feel some hope again. And on Christmas Day of 1864, he wrote the words of the poem, "Christmas Bells." The line, "God is not dead,' is a reminder to all who have lost that there is hope.

Fear Not, My Friend

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 17:51:00 +0000

They were amazing words, echoing across the sheep-filled grasses, a billion blinking stars danced in approval

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

Flikr Photo by galibert olivier

Still, the shepherds trembled. And the words of reassurance came from the angel. "Fear not."

It was a common theme in preparation for the baby’s birth. When Zacharias was in the temple, he heard “Fear Not.” When the angel appeared to Mary, he said, “Fear Not.”

Why should anyone fear an angel? Why should anyone fear words that bring such good news? Why should anyone fear the Christmas message?

But it’s true. We are afraid.We were afraid then. And we are afraid now.

I have a friend who will not come to a 45-minute Christmas Eve service. He is content to watch A Christmas Story on television, only to be interrupted every 12 minutes with ads about the latest sedan or dishsoap. Maybe there will be a good rerun on later. Maybe someone will call. Maybe.

The box of Queen Anne Cherries sits next to his chair while the blinking lights flash from his neighbors house bounce off his drawn curtains.

He is alone. And deep down he is afraid of the angel’s message. He is afraid that his persona of hating organized religion will crumble when faced with a personal Jesus. He is afraid that the truth he has seen so clearly might just invade his heart. He is afraid that after all of these years of resistance, that he'll actually give in to someone greater than he. So he clings to the fear, ignoring the words of the angel.

Fear not, my friend. Fear not.

If we will take the trip, he'll light the sky

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

My life isn't really all that deliberate. In fact, most of my blessings I have just stumbled into. I can't tell you how many times I've looked at my good things in my life and wondered, "how in the world did I get here?" I'm not educated, nor am I gifted or rich.

I just got a great job promotion that I'm not convinced I totally earned. I have relationships that have changed my life, people that I never sought out. I just found them. Or they found me. And despite my bad self, I still have friends who stuck with me.
Looking around, I'm so blessed, and I didn't do anything to deserve any of it.

Is it possible to just get "lucky" in regards to God? Can I just try to live right and suddenly find myself smack dab in the middle of wonder, without even trying?

Or do I have to be intentional -- seeking Him out.

I wish I had acted more like the wise men, looking for the answer rather than just bumbling along.

They asked for an answer and all they had to do was follow the star. It was almost as if God was saying, "You take the trip, I'll light the sky."

Paul describes humans as "seekers of God, feeling their way toward him". A.W. Tozer said that "God is never found accidentally."

What would I see, if only I would start to look?

“And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart” (Jer. 29:13).

What do you think? Do we need to seek Him out? Or does He just show up? Comment here.

Blue Christmas: For those who have lost

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 12:38:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia

Listen to the radio and you’ll hear Elvis croon his Christmas classic.

“I'll have a blue Christmas without you.”

Nancy Fransen, who blogs at Out of My Alleged Mind, wrote about the loss of her father, and the wistfulness of her mother this time of year. In her post, “You can dance if you want," she reflected on the Elvis classic song, Blue Christmas, and her general disdain for it. It makes her mother cry.

While there is plenty of merriment in the air, you'll often catch a dissenting look in someone's eyes. You'll notice the wistful way they remember. Every Christmas carol, every celebration, every decoration holds a memory that is at the same time both fulfilling and painful.

Christmas, we’re told, is a time for cheer and joy. It’s a season for wishes and dreams come true. But for those who have experienced loss it’s simply a memory of what they don’t have. Try as they can, the Christ child and redemption never seems to overcome the sense of hollow pain.

Nancy has a wise solution. Embrace both worlds.

“Maybe the best way to do so is by fully entering into the blue-ness of the season, daring ourselves to tell the truth about what’s messed up, broken, and sad in our lives,” she writs.

I can understand the logic of this.

You never know the joy of being found until you are lost. You’ll never know grace until you need it. You’ll never run to a Savior until you realize you need one. The twist of loss and gain is locked in a holy embrace. It all defies explanation until you walk in it.

For me, I never squinted at the sun until I emerged from pitch black.

And really, Christmas is all about a piercing light that broke the endless, hopeless litany of a people without hope.

The glad tidings sound ever-so-sweet compared to the chords of a world that can't carry a tune.

What songs make you blue? Which ones lift you up?

What's buried in my back yard?

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 12:35:00 +0000

I took one my mother's shovels and worked diligently for a week after school in the empty lot across the street. I was on a treasure hunt, certain I would find enough money for a new bike or maybe enough to help the family with our rent. Digging, sifting, turning of piles of dirt yielded little but old bottle caps, nails, and twisted metal. I did find an old bone, and took it home excited that I had found a grave. But Dad told me it was just a dog bone, buried by the neighborhood mutt.

I was reminded of my quest when I read about a man in Austria, who was turning dirt in his back yard and unearthed hundreds of pieces of centuries-old jewelry, some as old as 600 years old.

The trove consisted of more than 200 rings, brooches, ornate belt buckles, gold-plated silver plates and other pieces or fragments, many encrusted with pearls, fossilized coral and other ornaments.

Where did they come from? Did someone hide them -- and then forget? Were there bandits, going house to house, and the family treasure was hidden?

What's buried in my back yard? I could go about with a shovel, like the nine-year old me, looking for similar loot. They have metal detectors and I could be like one of those intense, lonely men with headphones walking along the shore hoping for a big find. But I'm not interested

And I have enough buried in my life anyway. There are plenty of memories -- things I never want to think about again. Sins I've confessed that still find ways to sneak into my brain at the most in opportune times. Buried back there are words that I wish I had never said, actions I should have never done, bitterness I've tried to hide.

I'll leave the shovel, hanging in the shed. And just let the back yard stay the way it is. I've spent too long getting my lawn the way it is anyway.

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Featuring posts from the High Calling

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 04:21:00 +0000

It’s my great privilege to feature a few bloggers from the High Calling network of nearly 1,800 members.. You’re going to enjoy these great voices from all around the world.

Christine Sine at GodSpace always writes about provocative subjects that make me think And her post, I Believe in Jesus … Or Do I?, doesn’t disappoint. She’s writing about the Advent season and how we should prepare.

“At no other time of the year are the forces of the secular culture more at odds with what the spirit of God is inviting us to participate in. The spirit calls us to quiet reflection, the world calls us to loud partying. The spirit calls us prepare our lives, the world calls us to indulge in every extravagance.”

Marni Arnold starts with this provocative line. “It is a burden to carry a story.” And it’s true, given the two usual solutions. “One way has been to be so completely honest, that it absolutely obliterates people emotionally,” she observes. The other way, is to completely avert “even the slightest aroma of a dark part of one’s life.” But there might just be a third way. Read the Weight of Testimonies.

The book of Job is not a depressing book about a broken man, according to Sandra Turton. Instead, “it’s a story of amazing empowerment.” Reading her post, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, I found a great summary of applicable lessons. “When the fog is thick and the pain runs deep, hold on and turn only to God.”

Nancy Franson at Out of my Alleged Mind wrote a powerful post about when she slipped and dropped her little

girl. Although the child wasn’t seriously harmed, Nancy had the realization that she had violated the trust of her daughter, and she reflects in When We Disappoint. “I’ve wept in the knowledge that my actions have caused harm to those I love,” she writes. “I’ve made careless decisions, some of which were outright self-centered and sinful.” Read the entire post here.

Jenn Ferguson at Finding Heaven found a little eternity when she let the soil from her back yard run through her hands. “I found God in the garden. Somehow, He always seems to make Himself known there.” Her end-of-year preparations in the garden provide some interesting reflection on eternity, fellowship, and temptation. Read the Smell of Dirt and you’ll never weed your garden again without some of her thoughtful observations coming to mind.

Matthew Kreider’s Thanksgiving was especially pensive. Nearly two decades ago, he survived a car accident and coma. And this year he was able to minister to a friend who is struggling. He writes to her – and all of us. “Good and bad will converge. And we can rarely hold them together on our own. Yes, it is confusing,” he writes. “But thanksgiving is simple. Thanksgiving is uncomplicated. And it keeps us from babbling. Thanksgiving is a posture which keeps us pointing. Because — no matter what — God is faithful". Read Say Anything on Thanksgiving.

Finnish blogger Mari-Anna Stålnacke writes at Flowing Faith. Her writings are fresh, interesting and insightful. The post, How Much Should We Pray? asks a good, honest question. After all, she observes, we are told to “pray without ceasing.” She rightly surmises that “we can’t manipulate God with our prayers.” But, prayer reminds us that “God is not distant, that we are in partnership and relationship with God Almighty.” So. How much should we pray? Read her full post here for the answer.

I appreciate the tone and encouragement brought by Jana Driggers, who’s Twitter account bio claims that “clutter is her kryptonite.” Read, the Whole Earth Is Filled With His Glory at Grace for My Mess and you’ll see what I see.

Simone Graham is impressed by Pyramids, the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China. But what really moves her world is a list of the Seven Wonders of her world. Her first book, her first flight, her husband and kids. A thoroughly enjoyable post at Great Fun 4 Kids.

zDid you like any of these? Any other posts you would like to share?

How to bear good fruit from an imperfect family tree

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

He was called a bastard son.

It was outrageous really. His mother was just a young teen. The father was much older and there hadn't been a marriage. The tongues wagged, clicking at the impropriety. And the angel story really was a stretch. The baby's lineage wasn’t much better. It was filled with incredible scandal. Instead of a lush family tree, with lovely branches and perfect leaves, it was crooked.

Go back a few generations and you’d find murder, adultuery, debaucherou and prostitution. Liars and thieves populated the ranks. And while there were good, God-fearing people in his past, it seems that everyone wanted to focus on the faulty predecessors.

The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, they said. The kid probably wouldn't amount to much.

He wasn’t the only one with black sheep in the family pasture.

I’ve been privy to some family history myself lately. With both my parents gone, I’ve been able to look in the dusty trunks, unfolding papers and memories. I’ve scanned hundreds of photos tucked in crumbling albums, trying to catch a glimmer of those that went before me. I’ve learned about my great aunt who was a fashion model, gracing the cover of magazines. And then there was her sister, who had the distinction of being a tattoo lady in a circus. And don’t forget my grandmother, who danced in front of sailors for a living.

My grandfather died in a Veteran’s Hospital, his skin yellow with liver failure. You can guess the life he led. He still loved deep, despite his addiction.

My father had a secret marriage and child before he met my mother. I don’t know what happened to either of them. I never even knew they existed, a topic apparently whitewashed from our home. My parents divorced sometime after I was conceived. And then remarried. I didn’t know that either.

At some point, both my parents found Jesus and tried to raise a family that would be different. They tried so hard to do the right thing. I’m so grateful they did.

This Jesus they found – the one I spoke about earlier with the terrible family history – inserted himself right into this human muck. He came from a pretty good place, and picked imperfection to live a life. That's why he understands all of this.

There is real beauty in this adoption that I'm experiencing. God loves me as His son and took me in. I’m not the perfect little kid that everyone wishes were theirs. I’m the one with the dirty face, the ugly past and the future that doesn’t look so promising either.

Yet, He takes me as I am. I’m amazed.

It’s a reminder that my earthly bloodline doesn’t have to trump my heavenly destiny. There isn’t some sort of rut that I have to follow just because of my name, or my lineage

I knew a guy who drank heavily – and said it was because his dad did first. And we see it all the time.

Parents who beat their kids, learning it from their parents. Joblessness, cheating, abuse and adultery often seem to run in the family.

But there is voice that echoes in our heads that says, “Stop it. You don’t have to live that way.” And that goes for my kids too. They don't have to mimic my bad ways either.

The family tree might just be able to produce some good fruit yet.

Care to comment? Click here.

Connecting with Michelle at Hear It On Sunday, Use it on Monday. Thanks to Chad Bruggerman for the sermon inspiration, "Due Date."

The temple of America: Thoughts on consumerism

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

The Black Friday deaths last week were sad commentaries on our society.

People died because we needed our stuff. They were crushed because of our greed, our consumption and worship of the idol of self. Our culture values material things over people, and those that died were casualtities of our way of life.

We are concerned about gay marriage, the breakdown of the family, and the rise of naked atheism. We preach against them, stand against them and gather forces to oppose these cultural trends.

But rarely do you see the church and those that make it up make a courageous stand against consumerism. The reason is because we are drinking it in. We are addicted to the stuff. On one hand it repulses our hearts, on the other it satisfies our thirst.

What is your thought on consumerism? What should we be doing?

The Half Way Church

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 16:34:00 +0000

"Thanks for giving me a shift on Thanksgiving" -- What do you think about those who have to work tomorrow?

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 11:53:00 +0000

Here we go.
The Christmas, I mean "Holiday" Shopping Season is about to start.

Actually, it seems to have started sometime in October, with pre-black Friday sales at Lowe's and Walmart, tree decorations in Sears before Halloween, and ads stuffing my newspaper and mailbox.

Traditionally, retail stores have started the big push the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday for most stores meant an early opening at 7 a.m. or even 5 a.m. for die hards. But all norms are off this year. Stores like Target, Kohl's, and others are opening at midnight on Thanksgiving night. Toy's R Us is upping the ante and opening at 9 p.m. on Thanksgiving.

That's too early for workers, who must sleep during the day if they are to work all night. And to me, it just seems insane to shop for a pair of gloves or buy a Blu-Ray player on Thanksgiving Day.

Most of all, the workers are the ones to pity for our binge buying. They are the ones who are paid far too little, and yet have to leave their families so we can get bargains.

One man, Anthony Hardwick who is a parking lot attendant for Target in Omaha, took it to the cyber-sphere and started a petition, which as garnered thousands of signatures. Most won't be so bold. Happy to have a joy, they'll just show up, coffee mug in hand and scan items and ask if customers would like to partipate in yet another rewards program.

The petition says this. "A midnight opening robs the hourly and in-store salary workers of time off with their families on Thanksgiving Day. By opening the doors at midnight, Target is requiring team members to be in the store by 11 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day. A full holiday with family is not just for the elite of this nation -- all Americans should be able to break bread with loved ones and get a good night's rest on Thanksgiving!"

I for one, hope the early opening is a big, fat bust. While I am a fan of capitalism, I'm hoping that this time, the stores who participate in this won't make any money and it will go down in business annals as a bad move..

What do you think? Will you be participating?

Does your job have you down? Here's how to give thanks

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 18:05:00 +0000

These days, the workplace for many has a certain sense of gloom. The economy hasn’t treated most of us well.

Cutbacks, reductions and less benefits are the norm.

Image by Ben Fredericson.
Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr.

Many of my friends have gone from the rolls of short-term unemployed to long-term. Others are underemployed, finding work as temps or part time workers, benefits trimmed or stripped outright.

And for those that are still working, they have to do way more with way less.

Rather than let our employment challenges drag us down, let's take back the workplace for God’s glory, through an attitude of gratitude. “In all things give thanks.”

First of all, I’m thankful I even have a job.

I’m thankful for the challenge, and even the frustrations.
I’m thankful for the out-of-control schedule
I’m thankful for my coworkers.
I’m thankful for every penny that my employer sends my way.

In every way, I’m grateful for this job.

Read this full post over at The High Calling. Click here.

Care to comment? How's your job going? Grateful?

How to see the gain through the pain

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 16:48:00 +0000

In this traditional week of thanks, it's not always easy for everyone to find gratitude. In fact, for some, there is a tendency for us to focus on the things we've lost.

For me, there is a nagging voice that tries to tell me to surround myself with the cloak of pity, to cower and hide in the dark. I 've lost a life-long love to the world. I love lost both of my parents to death. I've lost friends to their own selfishness. Even my dog died. Sounds like a bad country song...

But when I focus on the loss, I miss out on the gain. And I must admit, I haven't always seen clearly the gifts I've been given.

Photo courtesy of caitlin marie♥

Ann Voskamp, High Calling editor and writer of One Thousand Gifts was recently interviewed by World Mmagazine. Commenting on God's sustainence of the Israelites on manna, she reminded us that the word literally means, "What is it?"

I can imagine the wandering nation, with their daily bread miraculously appearing out of nowhere. Yet, they had no home. They had lost so much. They would look skyward, quizzically stating, "We dont' understand. This isn't what we were expecting."

Ann said this. "We can be sustained in situations where we don't understand the why, but we can trust the Who."

That's what has propelled me forward. While I have lost things, I have gained so much. I have friends. I have life. I have opportunity. I have a future.

While not all of this is vividly clear, I can trust that God has it in control, that there is a whole reality that I'm gaining, day by day.

Care to comment?

Flippin church

noreply@blogger.com (David Rupert) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 16:00:00 +0000